“Her mom says it’s been nonstop crying for the past forty-eight hours.”
Alice grimaced. She didn’t know if she felt worse for Brittany or her mom.
“Anyway, she’s not coming in for the next few days. Have you thought more about who you’re taking to her wedding?”
Alice headed for the door with the keys. An image of Beau’s rock-hard chest and ripped abs rudely popped into her head. “Not really.”
“You’d better get a move on,” Janie said. “Otherwise it’s going to be like a singles bar in here again. That girl is not going to give up.”
Alice definitely didn’t want the parade of single men to resume.
Before she turned the key to unlock the door, she stared through the glass at the town square, as if maybe a handsome bachelor she hadn’t seen before would happen by.
But there were no surprises to be had in Big Verde. Alice knew every single person in town. And she knew their reading habits, as well. Across the street, Mr. Bowman chatted with Mr. Martinez in front of the Corner Café. Mr. Bowman was a World War I buff. He’d read every book the library had on the subject. And Mr. Martinez was a fan of Westerns. He’d read every Zane Grey in their collection at least twice.
George Streleki, the local real estate agent, paused to look in the window of the Dozen or So Bakery. Last Friday, he’d checked out books on beekeeping. His wife, Maryanne, had come in later, asking about books on menopause and depression.
Alice knew the folks of Big Verde as well as any therapist or priest. She knew who was concerned about symptoms of Alzheimer’s, who was considering a second career, who was trying to get pregnant . . .
And their privacy was sacrosanct.
She touched the glass with her fingers. These were her people. And this was her town, where everything predictably happened the same as it had the day before. So why did she always feel as if she were on the other side of the glass?
Her muscles tensed as she thought about the job in Austin. Was she nervous? Or excited? Both, maybe.
“Who’s volunteering today?” Janie asked.
Alice blinked and tried to think. “I’m not sure, actually,” she said, unlocking the door.
A white Ford Escort pulled into the library’s parking lot. A bumper sticker proclaimed you can follow the crowd. i’ll follow jesus! “Never mind. It’s Miss Mills. And she just arrived, so make sure your vices are all tucked in.”
Janie laughed. “I no longer bother with tucking anything in.”
Alice went to the desk, and Miss Mills entered a short time later.
“Good morning, ladies. Did you hear about Brittany?”
“Sure did,” Alice said. “Such a shame. I hope she’s all healed up in time for the big day.”
“If you ask me, this was the Lord’s way of telling that girl to slow down.”
Alice doubted that. “You can get started on the drop box books, Miss Mills. We had quite a few returns overnight.”
Miss Mills fanned her face and sat down behind the circulation desk. “Maybe in a minute. Let me catch my breath first.”
Miss Mills was a big fan of catching her breath. She reached into her enormous bag and pulled out a copy of Breaking the Cowboy. “I’ve got some catching up to do on my book.”
“Ooh, that one looks steamy,” Janie said. “Is it good?”
“It’s not my cup of tea, but I’ll read it—minus the racy parts—because it’s the type of book Alice keeps choosing for book club.”
Alice smirked. Miss Mills read every page, especially the racy parts. “Nobody came to book club regularly until we switched to romance.”
“I did,” Miss Mills said. “Religiously.”
Alice had struggled for years to promote the book club. She’d tried choosing classics for back-to-school season. She’d tried horror at Halloween. Mysteries. Suspense. Nothing had built interest. But when she chose a romance novel—Boom! Six women showed up. And they’d been showing up ever since.
Romance was a huge genre with an inexhaustible number of themes and tropes to explore. There was literally something for everyone, and who didn’t love a happy ending?
Their book club conversations might not be as sophisticated as the Self-Partnered Women meetings she attended in Austin, but they were always entertaining. More importantly, what was discussed in book club stayed in book club. And sometimes, they even talked about the book.
“Here comes our first patron of the day,” Janie said. “A white Rancho Cañada Verde pickup just parked outside.”
“It’s Monday,” Miss Mills said. “It must be one of the Montgomery boys coming to get their grandmother’s books.”
Alice nearly dropped the stack of books she’d just picked up. Hopefully, it was Bryce. Because she didn’t really want to see Beau’s chest saunter in. Dang it! She meant she didn’t want to see Beau saunter in, with or without his chest. He was super annoying. He always loitered about, looking at books and mindlessly flirting with Janie and the volunteers. Heck, he would flirt with a tree stump if he happened to trip over it.
He did not flirt with Alice. And that was just fine. Why would she want him to? And what did flirting even mean? Besides, when you said it five times in a row, it started to sound weird. Flirt, flirt, flirt, flirt, flirt.
The door opened, and she was awash in irritation. Her Beau-dar had gone off, making her skin flush and her pulse pound.
“Alice, are you okay?” Miss Mills asked. “You’re too young for a hot flash.”
Asking Allie Cat Martin to tutor him in reading under the best of circumstances would be utterly humiliating. But doing it after she’d stood in his doorway lecturing him about noise ordinances while he was half naked was downright unbearable.
She’d probably say no, and then what was he going to do?
Deep down, Beau didn’t really believe he could overcome dyslexia. He was an adult. Didn’t that mean that his neural pathways were already set in stone? No matter. He had to try, because if he lost his
